


Can We Be Kids Again?

by orphan_account



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bill Denbrough POV, Changing POV, F/M, M/M, Not Reddie centric, Pennywise (IT) is His Own Warning, Stanley Uris POV, Stenbrough, marriage AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Stenbrough Marriage AU:Mike asks the losers to come back to Derry, fully intending on rekindling their friendships in order to defeat Pennywise. What he doesn't know is that Bill and Stanley already know each other. Very well, actually.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Can We Be Kids Again?

_“...Ready?”_

“Let’s just sit here for a few more minutes, yeah?”

“We’ve been here for ten minutes already, Stanley!” 

Stan leaned back in the driver's seat, pretending to be texting on his phone. He and Bill both knew he was just scrolling through emails and not reading them, but it made avoiding looking at the restaurant a lot easier. 

“I’m nervous too.” Bill said, resting a warm hand on his leg. Stan eyed their matching wedding rings, just freshly bought now that they were officially married not even two weeks ago, after being fiance’s for nearly eight years. 

He wanted to say he was a lot more than nervous, that he was terrified to walk into that place and risk exposure to… he doesn’t know. He just knows he feels awful. But Bill, his husband, is beside him and he doesn’t have anything to fear.

“What are you nervous about?” Stan asked, finally lowering his phone and looking at him.

Bill smiled, soft and unassured; the same old smile he gave whenever he said something stupid and knew it. “I feel bad that I don’t remember any of them.”

“Mike said they didn’t remember either.”

He wouldn’t look at Stan, “What if he was just being nice?”

“Now look who’s being a scaredy-cat.” He teased, grabbing Bill’s hand and kissing the knuckle lightly, just to catch his attention again. “Let’s go inside now, okay?”

“Ok… but if you embarrass me, I’ll embarrass you.”

“Wouldn’t _dream_ of it, sweetheart.”

And with that, Stanley and his husband stepped out of their car to walk themselves into the restaurant to meet their old friends-- The Losers Club.

. . .

Sophomore year of college, they met officially. They had seen each other at parties, but Stan wasn’t big on getting drunk and Bill seemed more interested locking himself away in a study room or sitting in random areas on campus, tapping on his laptop. Stan would get glimpses of him, but always felt too awkward to actually approach. The pull was always there, however.

In the end, it was Bill Denbrough who made the first move. He greeted Stanley while they both stopped at the same printer, said something about his major-- English-- and then mentioned a workshop meant for _Sigma Tau Delta_ that he wanted to attend-- even if he wasn’t in it. Stan was far from an English major, but he offered to go with him anyway, since Bill offhandedly said they were going to cover citing and Stan _absolutely_ needed help for it.

The way Bill’s eyes lit up and how his face brightened with a smile had Stan weak in the knees. 

So, they spent more time together after the (boring) workshop. Being in the same fraternity helped, but Stan didn’t live with his frat and Bill was always out of the house, working on _whatever_ essay required his attention 24/7. 

“Want to go to the movies?” Stan had asked after months of hanging out, pretending like his stomach wasn’t caving in on itself with his anxiety.

Bill, eyes glued on his screen, seemed to hesitate. 

Stan’s confidence waned, “I mean-- Y’know, just curious. It’s okay, if not.”

“I’m scared to stop writing.” Bill admitted, “I hear from my teachers that people lose the will to write if they stop, so I don’t want to.”

He blinked, confused. 

Bill seemed to sense his confusion and smiled, soft and weary and Stan had a distinct feeling that’s the smile he puts up every time he feels sheepish or uneasy, “My book, I mean… I’m writing something.” 

“Oh.”

“Lame, r-right?”

“No! No, it…” Stan paused, “makes sense, now that I think about it.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“I dunno, writing some essays?”

Bill laughed, a sound Stan always fell victim too, “If only!”

He laughed too, “Well… I don’t think you’ll lose the will to write, Billy. I think you’ll do some good going on a date and relaxing.”

“So this is a date?”

 _Ah,_ Stan thought, feeling the blood rush to his face, _I suppose I did that one to myself._

“I mean… if you’d like it to be?”

Bill’s cheeks were red too, but Stan had no idea if it was from excitement or embarrassment. “I’d like that, Stanley.”

. . .

“Holy shit.” Said a man with the _biggest_ puppy-dog eyes he’s ever seen, staring at Bill and his husband like they were alien. Maybe they were. The rest of the room seemed to stare at them with mutual confusion, especially a very tall fellow and a redheaded woman, but a different man stepped forward-- Mike?-- and wrapped his arms around Bill in such a tight fashion that he wheezed a bit.

“Bill!” Mike said, right in his ear, “I’m so glad you came-- You too Stanley!-- but I just mean… it’s _you,_ man!”

“Yeah,” Bill said after hugging Mike back and pulling away, “Yeah, it’s uh, me.”

“I’m so glad you’re both here.” Mike reached out, shaking Stan’s hand. Bill could see his husband wince in surprise and he couldn’t help himself from smiling fondly. 

“Yeah, well, we luh… losers gotta stick together, right?” Bill said, stumbling just a bit because _where did that come from?_ He nervously checked to make sure he didn’t offend anyone, but they all seemed more relaxed than he felt. Maybe he is the weird one here.

“You remember that?” Mike asked, focusing all attention on him now and Bill realized just how much he was unused to it. Now that he focused on it, everybody seemed to be staring at him, as if he was supposed to do something. He’s a lot more used to Stanley being the forefront of the attention, what with his amazing company, and himself just being the pretty husband who also happened to have a few books turned into movies.

Mike continued on, unaware of Bill’s inner turmoil. “That’s good that you remember.”

Bill looked at Stan, who shrugged and made a vague motion to sit. Bill made sure he was sitting by Stanley, just because he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have that support system with him. Besides, that’s his husband. If anybody gets to bother Stan and eat off his plate, it’s him.

“Shit.” Richie said, “I can’t believe we all made it here. I for sure thought Eddie would dip out.”

Eddie straightened in his chair, “Fuck you! We all know Stanley would be the one to skip out.”

Bill caught Stanley’s disgusted eyeroll and he laughed. 

  
  


Not even ten minutes into dinner, Bill was eating off Stan’s plate. Stan glared at him, but nonetheless pushed the broccoli and rice in his direction because Stan _knew_ he would eat it. 

“Eat off your own plate.”

“I did.” He said, “Now I’m eating off yours.”

“This is why my family worries for my health around you. I’m becoming all bird-boned.”

“More like bird brained.” He mumbled, earning a light tap to his knuckles from Stan’s fork.

“Dang,” Richie piped up, “yall fight like a married couple.”

“Good!” Bill looked at Richie, “That means the rings _weren’t_ for nothing.”

Ben choked on his water and Eddie’s fork fell out of his hand and onto his plate with a messy clatter. 

“...Sorry?” Richie asked, “Rings? Either I’m _still_ fucked up from Ed’s mom and I’s great night out or you insinuated you and Stan were married?”

“I’m gonna kill you.” Eddie gritted out at Richie.

“We’re married.” He cut in, because he was damn well _proud_ of the fact that he and Stan got together. Had he not tied Stan down to his dumbass, he’s pretty sure he would be in some trailer park with unpublished manuscripts.

“Is that a shock?” Stan asked, albeit a little nervously. Bill noted that his hands were constantly moving. He was tempted to reach out and hold it, but maybe Stan wanted to gauge the reaction their friends had about this before they presented more PDA.

“No.” Bev said, staring between them, “Honestly? It’s not.”

“Yeah.” Ben scooped in, “It’s… great. I’m glad for you two.”

“How the fuck did you two get married?” Richie leaned in, a flustered confusion to his face that Bill oddly remembers being fond of, “Like, seriously. I hardly remembered this place existed, let alone you guys. I thought I got the scar on my hand from some bad fist fight, or something.”

“Uh, we met in college.” Bill said, looking at Stan because now that he tried to remember, it was a little fuzzy how they met. “Do you remember where we met? Was it the cafeteria?” 

“...No.” Stan said, a fond smile on his face that had Bill brightening rather than developing a chagrin. Stan made the reach for his free hand, rubbing a thumb over their wedding band and Bill relaxed back into his chair. “We met in the printing lab of our college. Bill made the horrible decision to invite me to some writing workshop.”

“I don’t regret it.” He said proudly, nearly surging forward to plant a kiss on Stan’s face before he remembered that Stan wasn’t too fond of his open intimacy around friends and family. So, he kept in his seat and just stared at the way Stan’s hair fanned to one side.

“You two are gross.” Richie said with a fake gag.

“Shut up, it’s cute!” Eddie defended.

“Not as cute as your m-”

“We get it! You fucked my mom!”

. . .

The first time Stan got to call Bill his boyfriend, he couldn’t seem to use the word right.

It came out clumsily, like he wasn’t sure, but he _was_ sure. They both talked about it, they’re dating now. It’s official. 

“My b- um, Boyfriend,” He’d get out, and then it would follow with an embarrassed, “Sorry, no, he’s for _sure_ my boyfriend,” and a laugh from whoever he was talking to.

Bill, on the other hand? Bill said it like it was natural. Like they had already been dating for years. 

“This is my boyfriend Stan.” Bill would say, introducing him with a smile and gestures. 

Stan was always embarrassed that it took him a few weeks to get it down. He admitted that to Bill once while they laid together in a bed, tucked in under blankets and watching a movie on a TV they borrowed. He squeezed tighter onto him when he admitted it, because a part of him worried maybe Bill would react badly to his confession.

Much to his surprise, Bill said, “Me too,” and laughed.

“What?” Stan asked, “But… every time you introduced me…?”

“I rehearsed a lot in the bathroom. In my head, though, I just couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think it was real until you kept coming back to see me.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one who struggled with the prospect of having a real relationship. Bill could always reassure him. It didn’t matter if it was for his worry, for taking the first step in his own business, or for taking him out to Derry to have dinner with old friends. Bill has that effect on people.

It’s one reason why on that night long ago, after they finished their movie and Bill and he were mere seconds from slumber, he promised to never hurt him.

He couldn’t imagine what that level of betrayal could do to his Bill.

. . .

“Y’know what?” Richie said, “I’m gonna address the very big elephant in the room which is Ben-- I mean, what the fuck?”

Stan laughed while Ben did a modest shake of his head and slouched in his seat. He does, in fact, remember very well how little of a filter Richie’s brain-to-mouth highway has. He misses it, now that he remembers all the good times it’s brought them together.

“Okay,” Ben said, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “I _may_ have lost a few pounds.”

“You kidding me? You’re like if the Chris’s fucked, but only the Thor and Captain America ones. Whayya got, like, a 6 pack?”

“Be nice to him!” Beverly laughed, “You’re embarrassing him.”

“I’m embarrassed him?” Richie exclaimed. “He’s embarrassing me! Everybody here looks great. What the fuck happened to me?”

“No clue.” Bill said from beside Stan, “Might be the glasses. Or the trash that comes outta your mouth.”

“Don’t start with me Denbrough, your last book said the word fuck two hundred and six times.”

Stan laughed, ignoring the withering stare Bill sent his way. 

“Since when could you read, Richie?” Eddie asked.

“Believe it or not Eds, I am not completely illiterate.”

“Don’t call me Eds.”

Ben laughed a little, “I gotta say, it’s… nice being around you guys again. I, uh, honestly don’t remember a lot about Derry.”

“Yeah, me either.” Bill agreed, and Stan could see in his husband’s face that he was relieved to not be the only one. 

It made Stan a little nervous to talk about Derry, because he remembered nearly all of what happened here. Except… it just seemed like he was missing an important piece of it all. He remembered them being scared shitless as kids, and the fight that broke them apart, but he can’t remember _why._

“Yeah, it’s a little funny, uh, when Mike called me I threw up.” Richie laughed nervously, messing with his hair, “It’s strange. I dunno. I feel a lot better being around you guys now, though… why’s everybody looking at me?”

Eddie’s lips pulled into a thin line, “I got into a car crash.”

“What?” Exclaimed various people from around the table.

“Are you okay?” Beverly asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just… the way I felt...”

“I get it.” Ben said, “It’s… it’s like…”

“Fear.” Stan said before he could stop himself, “Real… fear.”

“Mike?” Bill asked, and it just dawned on Stan that Mike hasn’t shared a single thing since they all sat at the table. “...Why are we here?”

Mike messed with his half-empty glass of water, then looked up at them all and sighed softly. “Twenty-seven years ago, we made a promise to come back if it did, and it has. It’s back.”

“It?” 

Beverly took in a soft, shuddering breath. “Pennywise.”

The table fell silent and Stan felt like he was going to throw up. Real, unpresidented fear clogged any logic left in his brain and he, out of habit, brought Bill’s hand up to his mouth to kiss and hold close. His husband squeezed his hand back, but other than that, showed no real sign of his own fear. But Bill’s always been good at that. He’s a natural when it comes to holding in his own emotions, although Stan suspects that’s more of a coping mechanism he developed from his childhood than it is a natural affinity. 

“We may have pushed it off it’s natural course,” Mike continued, moving his hands while he spoke in a way that told Stan he rehearsed this and still had no idea how to present it, “maybe even moved it a couple of years later. As it changed, so have we. But it’s still here. And-- And we made that oath. That’s why I brought you back, that’s why I brought you here; to finish it. For good.”

“Well that shit got dark fast.” Richie said, staring at his plate.

While they sat in stunned silence, Stan felt Bill’s hand slowly begin to pull away from him. A horrible thought came to him that maybe Bill remembered what he was like as a kid and suddenly didn’t want to touch him, but Bill seemed like he wanted to reach for something in his coat pocket, and Stan’s hold on him kept him from turning. So, he let go and watched while Bill dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“What’re you doing, Bill?” Mike asked.

“Gettin’ the _f-fuck_ outta here.” Bill said, pushing money onto the table and seemed ferociously anxious about his small stutter. Stan grabbed his shoulder before he could try to stand up, squeezing hard just to make him stop fumbling with his coat.

“Bill, wait,” Stan and Mike said at the same time. 

“...My fortune cookie just has a picture of a knife.”

They all paused, looking at Eddie while he held up the small piece of paper.

Richie cracked his own fortune cookie open, “...Mine’s a heart.”

Bill tensed under Stan’s hand and he slowly stood up. At this point, Stan was completely willing to run out the door with him, so he started to stand too. However, much to his complete shock, Bill made a motion with his hand and moved his drink and plate out of the way. 

“Wanna pass that over here?” Bill said, making a grab for the fortune cookie bowl. He snatched two of them and passed one to Stan while he opened his own.

“Mine’s… a door?” Beverly frowned at her paper.

Ben showed his, “It’s a pencil.”

“Book.” Mike looked at Bill.

Stan cracked open his cookie. “It’s… wedding rings.”

Bill frowned and crunched the cookie in his fist, “Uh… a red balloon?”

“What?” Richie made a face.

Bill showed his picture, and Stanley wondered why his gut sunk even lower than it already was. Bill’s picture was the only one with colour, and it stood out ominously against the white paper.

“Is this place giving us fucked up fortune cookies?” Richie asked, standing up from his seat and made a motion with his hand, “Did you do this, Mike?”

Mike’s eyes widened in alarm, “No, no I didn’t!”

“What the fuck does me getting a knife mean?” Eddie demanded, “Is this a threat?”

“It’s a message.” Mike said.

“A message?” Beverly whispered.

Bill opened his mouth to speak, “F-f--” 

Stan frowned at his husband, concerned for a whole new reason now. It was as though Bill couldn’t get the word out, and he was clearly struggling with it. He reached a hand out to wrap around him.

“Billy?” He whispered, “You okay?”

“F-- fuh-” Bill’s eyebrows pinched together and he shook his head, “I-I cant s-say--”

“Fuck!” Richie screamed.

They all turned to the trembling cookies in the bowl. It was as if the bowl holding them was shaking frantically, rattling the cookies until they startled to crumble and jitter. Stan gripped Bill tighter into him, stepping away cautiously from the bowl.

“What the fuck is happening?” Eddie demanded, rounding on Mike.

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck is happening, Mike!?”

“I don’t know!”

“Woah!” Ben exclaimed, him and Eddie cowering away when a lone cookie practically leaped out of the bowl, trembling and cracking just to show the sharp tip of a bug’s pincers. “What is that?”

“I don’t know!” 

“Is that Pennywise?”

“Seems like he lost a few pounds, if it is.”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie!”

The losers shut up the moment the cookie burst open and a loud, crying bug screamed at them with a wail that Stan recognized were from a baby. Upon further inspection, he realized he was correct. The huge, swollen, slimy bug screeched at them with the miniature head of a baby, proportional to its size and unsettling. Stan always thought babies crying was the worst noise in the world.

“Woah- hey, hey that cookie is looking at me!” Richie screamed, and Stan realized that while he focused on the crying bug-baby, several other cookies have pounced out and cracked open to expose the worst, most disgusting terrors he’s ever seen.

A few cookies actually flew. They had wings of a bat and had cornered Eddie and Ben, one was a slimey eye that slithered towards Richie with blood-red tentacles, the rest were too fast and chaotic for him to focus on. What he did know is that, through the losers club screaming and fussing, he and Bill somehow got separated.

“It’s not real!” Mike yelled, “It’s not real!”

“Feels real to me!” Bill snapped back, then gave a loud exclaim of _WOAH!_ when one of the flying cookies swooped at him, and stumbled backwards.

Had Stan not felt something tugging at his fingers, he would have instantly surged forward to catch Bill before he fell and hurt himself. However, something was _definitely_ nipping his skin and when he looked, he realized it was the crying bug-baby monster, jabbing the tips of its pincers into his skin and inching closer to his wedding ring. 

“Get the fuck off!” Stan yelled, snapping his wrists to throw it off and watched with satisfaction how it splat against the table with a satisfying cry. 

“It’s not real!” Mike repeated, and Stan just barely realized that he had a chair in his hands before Mike, big brawny Mike, slammed the chair onto the table with a startling _CRACK!_

Stan wasn’t sure what he expected, but while Mike very thoroughly smashed the bastard monsters to death, he ran to Bill and checked him all over.

“Any injuries?”

“N-N-No.” Bill breathed out hard, “O-one of them sp-spoke to me. The f-fuh-fucking cookie spoke.”

“Did you see one of them fly?” Stan asked, smiling despite the real fear that was still in both of their systems. Bill smiled too with a jittery laugh, then sighed out shakingly and hugged him. As much as Stan didn’t like public PDA, he decided that this was a good time to hold him.

So while the waitress came back in, and Richie Tozier asked for their bill, he held Bill close and set his chin on his husband’s head.

There’s no way they’re staying in Derry.


End file.
